


There Has Been No Malfunction

by quantumducky



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, It's Not Technically Canon Divergence If Canon Does Not Explicitly Say This Didn't Happen (TM), Other, aka we all basically know the airlock incident was jonny but what if... it wasn't, because dr carmilla sucks like that, conflicted feelings central!, except the hurt part isnt shown, true romance is yeeting the person responsible for your girlfriend's trauma into space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22968988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumducky/pseuds/quantumducky
Summary: Nastya is inside Aurora's veins when it happens.
Relationships: The Aurora/Nastya Rasputina
Comments: 10
Kudos: 136





	There Has Been No Malfunction

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to david, whose fault it is that i have so many feelings about nastya now

Nastya is inside Aurora’s veins when it happens. Despite the non-answer she will give later when asked, the reason for this is actually very simple. It’s safe there, tucked away in the heart of the ship she loves with solid, steadying metal around her. As long as she is surrounded on every side by Aurora’s embrace, she can be assured there isn’t anything else that can reach her- or, much more relevant at this precise moment, any _ one. _ The low, constant hum of the engine calms and comforts her. Nastya needs that, right now. She presses a hand flat against the metal beneath her and whispers her thanks for this sanctuary.

Aurora speaks something into her mind- not so much actual words as a pure burst of feeling, the way she communicates when none of the language she can find is adequate.

Nastya shakes her head just slightly. “I do not like her either.” She chuckles at the level of understatement in that, then winces. Laughing hurts.  _ Everything _ hurts, when she’s just gotten out of the latest series of tests by her creator.

It hurt very much to drag herself here when all her body wanted to do was collapse into bed for the rest of whatever passed for a day in the middle of space, but it was worth it. Aurora’s heat and rumbling purr soothe the pain in her body; her concern and anger quiet the part of Nastya’s mind that can’t help wondering treacherously if the doctor is right, after all, that they should be grateful for her gifts of immortality and inhumanity.

She sighs. “But there is nothing we can do about it. It is not as if we can  _ kill _ her.” This wasn’t a moral qualm, but a statement of fact. Along with her other… modifications, Carmilla seemed to have installed in each of them a prohibition against directly harming her. Jonny, for one, had tested this extensively, and gotten nothing but some new holes in the walls and an angry doctor when his hand twitched itself to the side at the last second.

Nor could they leave, at least not permanently. All of them had tried it at one point or another, except Nastya herself, who would not go anywhere without Aurora. All of them had come back. Although they claimed to have their own individual reasons, Nastya saw through all of them as excuses masking the inability to stay away.

Aurora, connected as the two of them are, hears the thoughts she doesn’t voice out loud. She sends back her worry, a reminder of safety, and the gentle suggestion that she ought to rest.

_ Things will be better after you sleep, _ she says, a platitude with an unusual degree of certainty behind it. Nastya isn’t sure she can believe that, but the effort to make her feel better is appreciated, and she is very tired. She closes her eyes, tries for the least cramp-inducing position possible in this small space, and lets Aurora lull her to sleep.

* * *

_ Nastya? Nastya, love, wake up. _

Nastya rouses with a sleepy, confused hum. She remembers where she is just in time to avoid banging her head on something. “Aurora,” she mumbles, affection coloring her tone. “How long was I asleep?” She hopes it hasn’t been long enough for anyone to start wondering about her absence. She isn’t in the mood to be teased about her admittedly unorthodox relationship.

_ Three hours. It is done. _

She blinks. “What’s done?” Aurora gives no answer, only a mix of sheepishness and defiant refusal to actually regret anything. “Darling, what did you  _ do?” _

_ You should go. The others will want to ask you questions soon. Please do not tell them why you were here. _

Nastya has a thought, distantly, as if through a layer of shock, about what it is Aurora may have done. She has just realized that, although their connection allows her awareness of the ship almost equal to Aurora’s own, she cannot sense Doctor Carmilla anywhere. The fresh burst of mingled pride and shame she receives a second later is all but a confirmation in itself.

_ Please do not tell them, _ Aurora says again, and Nastya shakes herself out of a frozen blankness.

“Okay,” she says- it comes out quiet and disbelieving. She repeats it, firmer. “Okay. I will not tell them what… what I was doing here.”

_ Thank you. _

“I love you,” Nastya tells her, the closest she can get to expressing how she feels right now without openly acknowledging what Aurora has just done for her. Later will come the conflicted horror, simultaneous relief and mourning in a confused blend, but for now she tries to focus on loving Aurora. No matter how she feels later, that won’t change.

Aurora send back a wave of her own reciprocation, making sure Nastya understands the strength of her feeling, the need to protect that overtook her. It is almost, but not quite, an apology. She hardly needs to actually say anything after that, but she does anyway. Hearing the words helps, sometimes, when Nastya is upset. Aurora can’t say she’s sorry, not when it isn’t true, but she can say this, and mean it more than she has ever meant anything in her existence.

_ I love you, too. _


End file.
